Bungee Cord 11-26-12

Hello,

     When my wife and I moved to Pennsylvania a year and a half ago and built a house, we dreamt of the day when our three sons, now spread across the country, would fill it and make it the place where their lives can find an anchor.  That dream came true this Thanksgiving.  From Denver via plane, and New York and Chicago by car my three twenty-some year old sons came “home” for Thanksgiving.  Along with them came a girl friend, a daughter in law, and a dog.

     The house that has calmly rested with just my wife, my dog and me in it came alive with an elevated heartbeat as the floors clicked with heels and paws, the perfectly kept rooms were strewn with clothes as if a tornado had passed through them, and laughter and memories radiated with greater warmth than the roaring fireplace.

     As a pastor who has moved around quite a bit as my kids grew up our family never really had a place that we could call “home”.  Sure, every place that we lived we made of it our home, but we always did so in the shadow of the lurking future of leaving it behind.  But not this time.  We have set down our roots here in the hills of Western Pennsylvania, roots from which a strong trunk will rise up, and from that trunk branches of love will extend as far away as New York, Denver, and Chicago so that even when my kids are not under the roof of this home, they will be under the shade and shelter that reaches out from this place.  This Thanksgiving my kids came home…… our house was full….. and so was my heart.

     I know the joy that swept over my soul to have my kids come “home”, so when I say to you that joy sweeps over the soul of God when his children come home, I speak as a father whose soul has tasted such a joy.  God has built his church on earth to be a place where people can find an anchor for their lives.  Sunday after Sunday he throws a Thanksgiving feast (Eucharist means “thanksgiving”), and he sets his table overflowing with his grace and mercy in hopes that all of his children will come.  

     If you are “home” every Sunday taking your seat at God’s table, know that God never tires of your presence, rather he delights in it.  And if you have been away for a while, don’t let your absence keep you away, for as long as you are not “home”, God’s “house” is a little empty and there is a hallow bubble in God’s heart.

     So, if you are wondering if you should go to church this Sunday, or any Sunday, instead of asking what it will mean to you to go to church, why not ask the more important question, “What will it mean to God?”  What will it mean to God to see his children reaching out to one another in care and concern?  What will it mean to God to see forgiveness being practiced between his children?  What will it mean to God to see smiles and tears carried on the faces of his children as they come to his table?  What will it mean to God to embrace his children more deeply than with a hug as he shares himself with them in Holy Communion.?

     I don’t know for sure what it meant for my kids to come home for Thanksgiving, but I do know what it meant to me.  It meant the world to me.  Likewise, I don’t know what it will mean for you when you come “home” to church on Sunday mornings, but I do know what it means to God.  It means the universe to him.

     This Sunday, and every Sunday, God hopes, and I hope, that you will be “home”.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 11-18-2005

Hello,

     “I’ll have it a little hotter than that,” I told the waitress after placing an order of “sweet and spicy” chicken wings for my wife who was stuck in traffic and is no fan of heat.

     “Louis?”  she said, having heard my description.

     “Sounds fine,” I said back to her.

     When the waitress brought out our two orders of chicken wings, I looked at my wife’s order that looked like it had been coated with a dark maple syrup…it looked good!  Then I looked at my “little hotter than that” order that was a covered with a bright orangish, redish sauce.  The mere sight of it felt hot.

     Still caught in traffic, my wife called me and told me to go ahead and eat.  I took a careful gaze at my plate to find the chicken wing with the most meat, and I picked it up.  It was heavily sauced, so my fingers were immediately covered in orangish, redish heat.  I brought the wing to my lips, which also took on the orange, red sauce, and bit into the meat.  Instantly my lips and tongue caught on fire.  No matter how much I licked my lips with my tongue, the sting persisted.  I wondered, “If this is a ‘little hotter than that’, what would a ‘lot hotter than that’ be like?  Four or five more bites of liquid fire, and I had the first wing consumed.  The problem was that there was 11 more waiting for me in that basket filled with the sauce.

     Having survived the first one, I figured I should give a second wing a try.  Not a good idea.  My burning lips and tongue took on a heat that could set metal on fire.

     The problem was that I am a bit of a tight-wad, so I wasn’t about to let even one of these wings to go waste.  The other problem was that after eating these two wings, there were 10 left.  I had  just paid $7.99 for these wings, and I wasn’t about to leave some hot wings uneaten.  I wasn’t about to leave even a cent’s worth of chicken wings on my plate.  So, with $7.99 invested in these wings, I decided that I was going to eat them all, every one of them.  And I did. 

     I had paid for them….and I wasn’t going to let my payment be in vain.  I ate them all, and when I had finished the sweat was pouring from my scalp, my tongue and lips felt like they were the victims of third degree burns.  I knew that I was going to pay the price of a lava churning stomach for the rest of the night.  When I ordered them, I hadn’t planned on them being so hot…but I had paid for them….and I wasn’t going to let $7.99 go down the drain by leaving even one of them on my plate.

     When I wonder if I am “a little hotter” than Jesus expected…and I probably am….no, I know I am….and I consider the determination to not let my $7.99 be in vain compared to the price that Jesus paid for me….his life, I have hope.  Great hope.  If I will not give up on hot chicken wings because I spent $7.99 on them, I have great hope that Jesus will not give up on “hot chicken wings me” because he spent his life on me.

     And my hope is not just based on my cheap-scape stubbornness.  It is based on what I see, Sunday after Sunday.  Every Sunday, no matter how hot I am, Jesus welcomes me to his table and says…”this is my body, given for you…this is my blood, shed for you.”  And he says the same thing to you.  If you have become a “hot potato”, too hot for the world to touch, come and find out that there is one who is determined to hold on to you and never let you go…Jesus….he paid the price of his life for you, and he is determined to not let the price of his life go down the drain.

     That is hope!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord  11-12-12

Hello,

     I was watching some football on TV on Saturday when in the periphery of my vision I saw something move outside the patio doors.  A quick glance away from my game, and I spied a deer calmly strolling across the yard, about 15 feet from the house.  It stopped to smell the vegetable garden that had long ago gave up its last harvest (maybe it was one of those pesky deer that was always trying to sample our produce) and then it slowly made its way to the tree line, taking in all the scenery as if it was a first time New York tourist.

     Not five minutes later, my football game was again interrupted by movement in my peripheral vision.  This time as I glanced out the glass doors I saw two Labrador retrievers striding along the same pathway as the deer, but their gate was no gawking tourist pace, theirs was the determined stride of two high school boys out looking for a fight.  One was stocky and black, the other was chocolate and sleeker.  I don’t know where they came from; some low security free ranging neighborhood yard, I suspect.  Where ever they came from one thing was certain.  They were on a mission.  Their strides were in lock step, and their eyes were being led by their noses.  With their tongues hanging out, it looked like they had sinister grins on their faces.

     I would venture to guess that if that deer that had stolled by my house had been aware of these two canine cruise missiles that were closing in on their target, the deer would not have been so slow along its way.  I didn’t hear any hooting and howling of the dogs in the woods, and I didn’t see them retrace their tracks in reverse past my house.  So, I don’t know what became of them and the deer, but my hopes for the deer’s preservation were not high.

     It would be nice, wouldn’t it, if we could stroll through life like that deer, relaxed, pausing to take in all that is around us.  The problem is, that unlike that deer, we are aware of Labradors and bloodhounds in determined pursuit behind us:  stocky health concerns, sleeker and speedier bills to be paid, persistent parental fears, stalking job pressures…and those are just the ones that we know of.  It is easy to find ourselves nervously hurried in our steps, our eyes darting all around, not to take in the beauty and wonder all along the path, but to try and spot the hunters before they spot us.

     But once a week out of the shadows of the woods there comes a somewhat soul startling, “Psst.”  Its surprise is enough to set all of our senses on high alert, and cause our hearts to race.  And then, there it is again, “Psst.  Over here.  Come over here.  It’s safe.”  Is it a trap?  Who is it who sees us and beckons us over?  And then it calls again, “Psst.  Over here.  There’s nothing to fear,” and the inviter ends the invite by calling our name.  “You can rest your weary bones here.  You can nourish your weakened muscles here.   You can calm your frantic heart here.  You can even pause and take a look at the beauty and the wonder of the world here.  Here the hounds will lose your trail.   Of course, you can’t stay here forever, but the time that you spend here will give you the strength and courage to make it through the next week, when I’ll call out to you again.”

     You hear the panting of the hounds behind you, you muscles ache and your lungs beg for air.  So, you do it….you step into the dark, following the calling voice, and you discover, that everything that the beckoner promised……..was true.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord   11-4-12

Hello,

     I found myself shaking my head in disbelieving shock in the wake of the hurricane dubbed Sandy that bullied the Northeast.  My oscillating head was not set in motion by the images of the destruction that the wind and waves dealt upon products of human hands.  Although I was deeply saddened by the plight of those who found themselves in fury’s way, I wasn’t shocked for I know that when humans line up against the forces of nature, we are like a 5^th grade football team taking our stand against the NFL.  We are so bound to get crushed that to say we are underdogs is an egotistic exaggeration.

     What set my head a wagging was something that I heard as I travelled to work a couple of days after the hurricane hit: neighborhood stores were being looted.  As the water swept into the buildings flooding the floors, people waded into that water and swept the shelves clear of the merchandise that the store owners had placed there to serve the community and by which to make a living.  It was shocking to me that people, looters, would take advantage of those whose lives had just crumbled in front of them by the destruction of the storm on their livelihood, and then kick them in the teeth by stealing away any shred of hope that remained.  It is headshakingly shocking to me.

     But now some days later having had time bring a halt to my shock-born head shaking, allowing my eyes to see things more clearly…I find myself seeing such looting going on around me all the time.  I’ve seen people’s lives looted when a hurricane named Divorce has blown into their lives and their sense of worth is plundered by the gossip that follows.  I’ve seen school children of all ages, pre-school to college, have their lives looted when tests are handed back and the audible and inaudible snickers loot any crumb of value that the hurricane named Failure hasn’t already swept away.  I’ve seen adults have their lives looted when the hurricane named Unthinkable Sin has raged through their lives, and then any shred of hope is grabbed from them by the sticky fingers of judgment and shame.  The truth is that there is something all too common for people who have just been crushed by a hurricane, that they find themselves kicked in the teeth by looters who prey on them.

     I don’t know when it was so dubbed, but the space in which we gather as the people of God every Sunday morning is called The Sanctuary.  It is so named because it is the place where Jesus, the one who stood up to the storm of storms, a storm named Sin and Death, and crushed it on Easter Sunday morning when he rose from the tomb, gathers us under his protection like a mother hen sheltering her chicks with her wings.  The place where we gather every Sunday morning, the Sanctuary, is a place of safety from the looters of the world.  Although the looters of the world may take advantage of you and kick you in the teeth when storms have shattered your life, the Lord of the Sanctuary will not.  When you enter his Sanctuary he will begin to repair your life with his words of forgiveness.  When you come to his table he will heal your wounds with the wounds he suffered, his body and blood.  And when your knees crumple, he will take hold of you and set you back on your feet after your conversation with him called prayer.

     So, in this world of life crushing storms, let me extend to you Jesus’ invitation, “Come unto me all you that are weary and heaven laden and I will give you rest.”  And don’t be surprised that when it comes time to leave the Sanctuary and face the stormy world that you find your head shaking in disbelieving shock, shock that the one who spans the reaches of the universe has just wrapped his arms around you and filled you with something no one or nothing can loot from you: God’s love for you.

     Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger